


Emma Swan: Time Pirate

by Tgrey



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hookfire - Freeform, M/M, Swan Queen - Freeform, SwanBeauty, black!Killian, trans!Killian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-05 01:39:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12784176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tgrey/pseuds/Tgrey
Summary: Emma Swan has been wandering through time, her only direction away from a painful memory.  When a short stopover in 2017 ends up taking longer than planned, she is forced to reckon with a future she is trying to leave in the past.Modern AU without magic, but there is tech and time travel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for SLY, my beta and my best friend.

It was an overly bright shaft of light coming through an inconveniently placed porthole over the little two burner stove that woke her.  She groaned feebly and swiped at the crust in her eyes with a disgusted sigh and tried to focus only on the nearest thing to her face for several deep breaths.  This turned out to be a small brown dining table with several sheets of notebook paper, a yellow pencil, and a shot glass with a cartoon crab and the word  _ Maryland _ written on it in bright script.  She then expanded her view with some effort to the somewhat aggressively red-brown panelling in the room around her, occasional silver poles running floor to low ceiling, and small Jolly Roger flag hanging on the wall.  

After a moment, it occurred to her that she was sprawled, pretty damn uncomfortably, at the table in the galley of her own, newly acquired, ship.  Despite the protest from several major body systems, it was a reasonably good start to the day. 

Contrary to the stereotype, Emma Swan’s nemesis was not rum, but whiskey, the after-effects of which were currently producing an unpleasant morning heartburn.  The empty Johnny Walker bottle was next to her on the white upholstered bench, which she discovered when it dug into her thigh as she shifted to sitting upright.  She plunked it loudly on the table with as much coordination as she could muster.   Which wasn’t much.  

Killian Jones, Emma’s first mate and only crew, poked his head out of his cabin door.

“Mornin’ Cap Swan” he said, perhaps overly sweetly.

“Ugh”

“I was worried about you.  I see now that my concern was entirely unfounded.”

“Ugh”

“That’s descriptive, luv.”

“Ugh”

“Can I assume you’re just hung over and not in the throes of the sickness?”

The sickness to which he referred was, for lack of a better term, time sickness.  It occasionally affected the duo when they first arrived in a new time and place and caused flu-like symptoms.  An unfortunate occupational hazard for the pair of time travelers, to be sure.  Emma looked down at one of the pieces of notebook paper and it said clearly ‘Boston, June 2017’ followed by 13 hash marks.  So, her mind fuzzily supplied, they had been here and for almost two weeks and Killian knew damn well it wasn’t time sickness. 

“Thanks for your concern, but all my atoms are accounted for,” Emma mumbled as she sat up, then added quietly, “ass.”

Killian just laughed.

A long moment passed while Emma gathered the coordination to stand and stumble to the head.

“Any word back from potential buyers then?” Killian called lightly after Emma as he padded into the galley wearing tattered bunny slippers and a pair of boxers.

“No, Kill, I’m...I’m sorry,” Emma sighed.  “But I’ll figure it  _ all _ out after I pee.  I don’t want to stay here longer than necessary.”

After a minute, he heard a flush and the sink running, “you know I don’t really care, right?"

“Yeah, but I’m the captain,” Emma smirked, emerging from the small toilet and shuffling to the coffee maker, ”gotta seem like I have some idea of what I am doing.”  

Killian regarded her disheveled blonde hair and the redness of her left cheek which contrasted with her pale skin where it had been squashed against the table and shook his head at the less than captainly sight.

“Right, then,” he said with an affectionate smile.

He entered the boat’s tiny bathroom and he caught sight of himself in the little mirror.  He had to admire how the morning sunlight from the skylight looked on his brown skin, and brought out the cool undertones.

“I look good” he said admiringly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma muttered in response, and Killian laughed not having realized how loud he had spoken, or perhaps how small a boat this was.  

“Good clean living, Swan. That’s the key.” It was a bit of a joke between them given Killian’s punk past, but he had really changed since he began travelling with Emma about 3 years prior.   _ Was it 3 years? _ He thought.  He’d have to check the log to be certain, but that felt right.

“Shut it, Jones” Emma’s grumble cut through his thought.  After a pause she asked, “do you want coffee?”

“No thanks,” he replied, “I just brushed my teeth.”

“Gah, so virtuous.”

When he emerged from the head, after trimming his stubble back a tad (but only a tad), his friend seemed to be mostly just staring into space with a glazed look.

Killian filled two pint glasses of water and brought them to the seated woman.

“Here, luv,” he handed her both, “ I can feel your headache from here.  Take it easy on the coffee.”

“Thanks,” she replied, then added, “I see you are settling into the new boat” Emma gestured with her chin to the Jolly Roger. It was conspicuously the only decoration in the main space below decks. 

They had purchased the boat, an Oceanis 351, at auction and had been pleasantly surprised that it was in such good shape when they took possession only a few days prior.  Even though the boat was over 20 years old, the interior upholstery had been refreshed and everything was pretty clean and functional.  The sails, hull and electronics seemed solid and Emma had been able to patch in the advanced solar panels they needed to run some of their tech.

“Yes, and in addition to my excellent home-making, I’ve gotten the pocket money as well.” Killian tossed a large roll of green cash onto the table next to her, breaking her concentration.  A driver’s license followed the money, “and identification.” 

“Not implants?” Emma asked, picking up the plastic card with her photo already on it.

“No,” Killian smiled, “not yet.  The technology exists, as does retinal scanning and other biometrics, but it’s not widespread for civi uses.”

“Huh,” Emma said.  

“Oi, also, I was able to pick up some more costumes,” he gestured to some clothes hanging on the back of his door. 

That piqued the blonde’s interest, who hopped up to rifle through the items while Killian slipped back into his tiny stateroom.  She first found a dark pantsuit with a collared white shirt, necessary for their business dealings.  She also saw a few pairs of jeans and tank top and t-shirts.

“This. Is. Perfect.” Emma said to no one in particular as she grabbed the last piece, a deep red leather motorcycle jacket, and immediately put in out.   It was broken in and soft.

Killian emerged, having changed into some shorts and sneakers, as Emma slid into the leather with a satisfied hum. “Oh, yeah, that’s a right beauty.  Got it used along with the boots there.” 

“And this is why you are in charge of fashion, my friend.”

“Why then is it I’m also in charge of all the other bloody logistics?” he said with a chuckle.

“Captain’s prerogative.  You don’t like it, you can find your own time machine.”

Killian just looked skyward with a long suffering sigh, then asked, “I’m going out for a run, care to join?” 

“Hell no, you delightful man.  But sparring later?  When I’m less dead?  I want to work on that hook combo.”

“Right on,” Killian waved without looking back and headed above decks.

Emma took as long as a shower as she dared in the tiny head and tried to feel more like a human being instead of some warm garbage.  After changing into some soft clothing, something from home, she got out the computer rig that she and Killian shared and set up on the table previously occupied by her face.  It was modified device from about 50 years in the future of their current destination that was retrofitted back to work on a variety of satellite and wifi technology. 

She stretched her fingers, cracked a few vertebrae in her neck, drank some coffee.  She unconsciously started doodling.  Her heart wasn’t into work today.  

Their main job during this layover was to broker a deal on some 12th and 13th century ironwork pieces, mostly weapons, with a Boston-based antiquities dealer.  Glancing at her watch, she checked the email account they had set up posing as legitimate sellers, but no still response. 

They still needed to cover expenses, she sighed, so side jobs were a must.  She was breaking some new ground in trying to flip the sale of some books.  A few first editions would be portable enough for the next leg of their trip, and would make a good sale in the 23rd century.  It as trendy for the wealthy to show off books in the early 23rd century, she had learned.  She typed and scrolled quickly using gestural commands picked up by the computer.  Looking down at some of her notes from the previous night, she entered “Harry Potter first edition” with a few movements.

“Boston sure loves its old books” she said to no one, finding little bookshops pop up in all over the city map on the display moments later. 

Emma bit her lip, and fidgeted restlessly with the shot glass still resting on the table.  She already wanted to move onto something else.  Something more interesting.  Something that distracted her.  Something more.  There was always something more she could do.

_ When you are a time traveller, there is always also nearly infinite amounts of time to waste _ , her mind supplied.  Pleased with her reasoning, she flipped over to an online dating site and scrolled through the profiles. 


	2. Chapter 2

A scant ten hours later, Emma grinned to herself as she pulled open the door to the bar. It was a little upscale compared to her usual taste, but Emma thought it reasonable to go with the other woman’s suggestion in order to make a good impression. That and it wasn’t like Emma really knew much about the local scene. 

She spotted her date already seated at a high table for two and sipping champagne, despite the fact that Emma had arrived right on time. 

“Probably a virgo, eh?” Emma muttered to herself and she weaved her way through the crowd. She was glad she had picked out the suit pants and a crisp shirt, as it seemed to fit with the other patrons. It was usually hard for Emma to get it right with little cultural context for social interactions. 

Her date wore an elegant but simple coral-colored dress with a single strap over the left shoulder. Her dark hair was slicked down on the sides with a volume boosted poof on the top, ending in an elaborate pony tail. Emma liked it aesthetically, but had no frame of reference for the fact that it was her date’s nod to the queer pompadour. 

“Hi, Jamie, right?” Emma said when she arrived at the table.

“Yes,” Jamie smiled slightly, “Emma?”

Emma smiled her most broad, charming smile and slid onto the chair in what she hoped was a smooth motion. She was a little sore from the boxing she and Killian had done earlier, but managed not to wince. 

“I’m so glad you were free tonight,” Emma admitted, “ I was excited to meet you.”

“Me too. My free nights can be few and far between,” Jamie replied, then paused looking for something to say. 

Fortunately, the server arrived with a menu, Emma mentally ran through some options settling on, “Bourbon, neat please.” Hair of the dog, they say, she thought. 

There was an awkward pause as the server left and they couldn’t pick up their prior thread of conversation. Small talk was tough for Emma, especially in a new time, but she had searched for things Bostoners like to talk about on the internet.

“So, how about the Sox this year?”

Jamie smiled and said lightly, “A little cliché, isn’t that?”

Emma shrugged a shoulder in self-deprecation, but held the other woman’s dark brown eyes.

Jamie shook her head a little, “I admit I’m not much of a sports fan.”

“Oh?” Emma said, taking a big breath because that was 4 of the 5 topics she had prepared; Red Sox, Celtics, Patriots, Bruins, and the relatively mild humidity. 

Jamie came to the rescue though and added, “I’m not originally from Boston so I didn’t grow up with the whole sports obsession.”

“Makes sense. How did you find yourself in Boston?”

“I came to here for college and ended up staying through law school,” she shrugged, “I’m originally from California.”

The waiter arrived with their drinks, distracting them both for a moment.

Jamie took a sip of her wine, “What other stuff can I get out of the way?” she said a bit more seriously than she probably intended.

“Whatever you’d like,” Emma responded playfully.

“I’m a second generation American of Chinese and Korean heritage. I’m a lawyer. I don’t like seeing movies in the theater.”

She smiled at the list-like litany Jamie had shared in her quiet and intense way. Much of the context was lost on Emma, like usual when she tried to date people in the places she travelled. She really had no idea of what second generation meant, but she knew lawyer as a profession. 

“A lawyer then?” Maybe I have type.

“Yes. Criminal defense.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Jamie pondered the question a moment, “It is less...righteous...if that’s not too strange a word, than I thought it would be. I want to defend people. Um, and I do like to fight. But not everyone is...principled. Not everyone is innocent. ”

Emma nodded her head knowingly. 

“Also, I should maybe tell you,” Jamie said a little abruptly.

“What?” Emma asked softly.

“I have a kid. She’s 11.”

Emma felt a pang in her chest, but shook it off when she saw the other woman’s unconscious smile.

“Tell me about her?” Emma said softly.

Her smile widened, “she’s thoughtful and kind. Though, this tween thing is a little trying. Oh, and she’s funny...like her dad. Not so serious...like me.” 

“Are you and her dad close?”

Jamie gave a half smile, “We are friendly. The relationship was a mistake on my part. I...” Jamie faltered, “Augh, I’m sorry-”

“It’s ok,”Emma could tell there was a lot more to the story. She reached a hand toward the other woman, “I’m sorry for asking. Um, what does your daughter like to do?”

“Seems like something new every few months, but she’s been really into theater. She’s in Mulan Jr at her school right now.”

Emma nodded, having really no idea what a ‘Mulan Jr’ was, but gathered enough to realize it was the name of the show, “Oh, is she playing the lead?”

“Oh no, she’s the dragon.”

“Everybody loves dragons,” Emma was able to say with a big smile, and with some authority on the matter. Because in her experience everyone throughout most of recorded time did indeed love dragons, or at least a good dragon story. 

Jamie smiled broader, perhaps less at Emma and more in affection for her daughter.

“How about you?” Jamie returned her scrutiny to the blond,

“What would you like to know?”

Jamie considered for a moment, “do you do much online dating?”

“Some,” Emma said non committally. She already felt like they had gotten too close with Jamie’s earnest admission of having a child. “It’s hard to meet people in my line of work,” she added.

“Which is?”

Emma felt a little reckless, and possibly a little desperate, so she bypassed one of her usual cover stories and said, “I’m a time traveller.”

Jamie’s smiled lessened but didn’t disappear. She was clearly waiting for the punch line.

“Really,” said Emma with what she was sure was a charming smile. 

Jamie picked up her clutch and slid off her chair coolly. “I’m not interested in playing games. You either don’t respect me enough for a straight answer or you are crazy. Not interested in either.”

“No, I can prove it! Amazing future technology right here in my watch.” Emma poked the large display a few times.

Jamie’s phone vibrated loudly in her small purse, and she reached in and pulled it out, seeing a text message.

“How the hell did you do that? I never gave you my phone number.”

“I told you,” Emma pitched her voice into some approximation of mysterious but erudite, “Technology, from the future, I can isolate any-”

Jamie cut her off in a low but dangerous tone, “Are you a God-damn stalker? Have you been stalking me out or something?”

“No, of course not!” Emma gestured to try and calm Jamie down, “I wanted to provide you a little bit of proof, that’s all.”

“Look, you’ve violated my privacy.”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s clear that you are quite in love with you own marvelousness”

“Is there anything I can do to start over?”

“Get in your damn time machine” Jamie sneered and walked out.

After sheepishly paying the bill, Emma meandered back to the slip, contemplating her own foolishness. A deep sense of loneliness welled up from where it was waiting patiently, always, for an opening. 

When she returned, Killian took a long look at her, “Date over?”

Emma sighed.

Killian sighed back, “Love, you are bad at this in any year.”

“Thanks.” She said before accepting a hug from her only friend. “Ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little slow start, but the plot thickens in chapter 3!


	3. Chapter 3

Emma pushed the door open and the little bell rang as she strode into Gold’s Booksellers. After rejection last night, she was determined to make some sort of positive out of today. _Just do the job, Swan._

“Hello?” she called out. She looked around cautiously and made her way to the old wooden desk toward the back of the shop, behind which there were glass display cases with rare editions.

“Just a moment” a friendly voice called from a back room. 

The air inside was thick smelling. Emma hadn’t been exposed to actual books until she had left her own time, and for the first time in her life, she was in a small space surrounded by high shelves virtually stuffed with them. Emma suppressed a sneeze just as a someone in her twenties emerged from a back room into the area behind the desk. 

“Hello,” the auburn haired woman said warmly.

Emma’s sneeze erupted despite her efforts, which she hastily buried in her elbow.

“Oh, excuse me. The book smells is just so…” _normal to you, right, you work here_ Emma’s brain supplied as her voice faltered.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it? Touch of vanilla or almonds and the like, with a tang on top. A proper old book smell is like a fine wine.” Her smile reached her pale blue eyes.

Emma found herself smiling back at the entirely unaffected appreciation the shorter woman had for the books that surrounded them in every direction. She realized she was staring with a bemused smile just a moment later than polite when she remembered her purpose.

“I’m wondering if you have these books?” she asked, pulling out a list written on torn notebook paper.

“Let’s have a look,” the other woman said, taking the list from her and pulling a stubby pencil from behind her ear. “Certainly this, and this,” she ticked off a few items, then muttered to herself over a few other things. She started typing into a computer as she looked at the list. “Three more on here I can get for you in a few days.” She turned back to Emma, “Are you a collector?”

“Of sorts,” Emma said, “I do a bit of import/export and private collection acquisition. ‘

“Huh,” the other woman said, and Emma got the sense that her selections were a bit odd for truly high end collecting. 

“I’m just branching out into books,” she explained, then asked, “what can you tell me about pricing?”

As the younger woman detailed the order (and Emma haggled her down a little), Emma noticed that this woman was really beautiful, with a brightness that charmed Emma unexpectedly. 

“Hm?” Emma realized the other woman had finished speaking a moment before. Rather a long moment before, in fact.

The book seller slid a business card across the desk, flipped it over then bent over slowly, and rather deeper than necessary to jot something down on the back of the card. She was wearing a very thin pale blue and white striped knit top, deep v-neck unbuttoned low and Emma realized she was staring again, at cleavage. Like, great cleavage. 

“What name should I put on the order?”

Emma’s throat was a little dry. _From the book dust,_ she reasoned. “My name is Emma.” 

“Alright Emma,” she stood back up and gave a friendly head nod, “Just call back and ask for me, Belle.”

“Uh, thanks Belle.”

“I like your jacket,” she said, handing the card to Emma, her fingertips touching Emma briefly on the back of her hand.

“I like your-” Emma looked at the clear and light blue eyes across from her and realized there was still a hint of teasing behind them, “shop.” 

“Thank you,” Belle said with a tight smile and a more brisk tone entered her voice, “well then, talk to you soon and thanks for coming in today.” 

Emma nodded and Belle, after an awkward beat, turned and returned to the back room from where she had entered. 

Emma was halfway to the door when she quickly turned back, and before she could talk herself out of it, scrawled a quick note on the back of a piece of scrap paper and left it on the desk without a backward glance.

+++

_“How do we know if it’s working?” Emma heard herself say, placing the hypotube on the bedside table and wiggling her fingers in front of her face._

_The brunette lounging on the bed chuckled, “It’s working, dear.”_

__

__

_“You ready?” Emma turned with a mixture of cocky confidence and genuine query. It was often a surprise between them, how they would relate when they had sex, but Emma was really ready for anything today. She knew she wanted and needed to be wanted in return._

__

__

_Theirs was an orbital relationship. It always made sense to them, facing one another while moving through space. From the outside, though, it was never clear who was in retrograde._

__

__

_“Come and have me,” the other woman practically growled and Emma lowered herself over the waiting brunette. Her thigh slid between two others and she savored that heavy settling feeling before getting lost in insistent but unhurried kisses. Emma could tell by the way that the older woman stretched out on the bed that she would could and should take whatever she wanted tonight._

__

__

_Emma answered the invitation by shifting her attention to interspersing nips along with the kisses along the other woman’s neck, down to her clavicle, across to two bitable shoulders. She pinned the willing brunnette down subtly with her forearms and her hip. She then started to lick one nipple in earnest and it was quickly becoming hard against the flat of her tongue._

__

__

_Emma quickly lost herself a little, her ordinarily reserved veneer gone in the warm skin, her hands skimming across planes and curves. Soon her mouth licked and kissed back and forth slowly across from nipple to nipple. The impatient restlessness from the woman underneath her prompted Emma to shift from reverent exploration to the demanding hunger that prowled beneath her guarded surface._

__

__

_She gripped the older woman firmly, but not harshly, where her neck met her shoulder with one hand. She slid the other hand to find sides, a hip and then, a compressed but still squeezable asscheek._

__

__

_Emma heard a very faint growl and she cocked her head and reconnected with bright brown eyes. Emma’s smile broadened to her most brilliant and it was met with a smirk and a raised eyebrow._

__

__

_With one last hard squeeze and a wink, Emma shifted and slid her hand between two thighs and decisively spread the other woman’s knees apart. She found the other woman’s silky wetness and firmly drew two fingers from her clit to her opening and back._

__

__

_“Yes,” the word was drawn out. Emma smirked._

__

__

_Emma was methodical, working the hardening clit from its base to the tip until the brunette settled into a rhythm. At that moment, Emma kept pressure on the other woman’s shoulder as she slid two fingers fully inside her entrance in one motion._

__

__

_Emma heard a groan, a mixture of frustration at losing the attention on her clit and delight at suddenly being filled with Emma’s curled fingers. Emma worked steadily as she also dipped her mouth to a taut nipple. She added another finger when she felt a hand tangle in her hair._

__

__

_The orgasm was a tremor that started deep in the other woman’s body. She gently pulled Emma’s head away from her chest and their eyes met again and something in Emma softened. She then found herself hauled down in a surprisingly strong grip as shudders rippled through the older woman._

__

__

_Long moments later, Emma limbs were loosely draped over soft thighs, and toned arms, and a slowly rising and falling chest that was humming just a little bit._

__

__

_There was a scorching burn wrapped around a simple glow between them. Wrapped in fire. Wrapped in light. Layers over and over. Practiced discovery. Edges that defined the deep fluid core. Sweet kisses with a flash of teeth._

__

__

_Teeth that were currently working their way around her neck and down to her nipples. I guess she’s recovered. If it is possible to mentally smirk, Emma did. But only for a moment as the lips and teeth continued their path lower and lower on her body and wiped most cogent thoughts from her mind. She was already soaked from her earlier exploration of her partner, so it was with an audible and satisfied groan that she welcomed two fingers inside, followed by precise tongue strokes up the length of her clit._

__

__

_She was coming soon, sooner than at least she intended. Her legs flexed a little, unconsciously thrusting her hips further towards the brunette who was chuckling lightly directly into her wet cunt. With a few more suddenly slow and thorough strokes, she lost herself and cried out._

__

__

_“Regina!”_

__

__

Emma woke up disoriented and completely wet through her underwear and with sweat making her light tank top stick to her skin. 

“Shit, damn, fuck. Fuck.” she said to herself, running a hand through her shoulder length hair.

This was one of the strongest and most recurrent of the enhanced memories she had, maybe because it was the first she had ever encoded. She and Regina had gotten the memory enhancer injections, a combination of nanotech and chemicals, to permanently imprint some of their favorite times together; anticipated sailing trips, sexual encounters, life’s milestones. 

_It’s getting worse,_ Emma thought to herself, breathing slowly in order to hold back an insidious panic. Enhanced memories were typically activated by a spoken phrase and then the rememberer would vividly relive the experiences in a way that the brain could not tell was different from the original. 

Unfortunately for Emma, _her_ memories were activating randomly lately, especially when she was feeling emotional or deep in sleep. Most of her contemporaries would have had some follow up treatments to dull the intensity of the memories, or even wipe them out completely, but Emma hadn’t risked returning to a time and place when that would have been possible. The danger of being found out was too great, and some of the neural mapping they did as part of the procedure may have exposed her, even if she had used a fake identity. It was something she chose to manage by more crude methods, namely whiskey when it was available. 

Having seen a sampling of several hundreds of years worth of human behavior, she knew there was always an impulse to preserve stories whether in images, feelings or in word. But in this case, it sucked.

Her clit twitched in agreement in that moment. 

Emma took care of her body’s immediate needs in the aftermath of that particular memory replay, then tried to fall back asleep. After 15 minutes of tossing and turning, she stripped out of her clothes, put a new shirt and shorts, and went out to the boat’s living space.

Killian was reading a book at the table, his feet up and again in ridiculous bunny slippers. He was a night owl, one of the few remnants of his earlier life of drugs and partying as part of London’s punk scene in the late 1970’s. 

“Hey, you ok?” Killian looked up at Emma with surprise at seeing her up. It was unusual once the blonde has retired for the night.

“Hm, yeah, of course,” she said, then washed her hands and splashed some cold water from the galley sink on her face. She grabbed a glass and a bottle of amber liquor and plopped them on the table. Killian waited for a moment while she downed her first shot.

The silence became like a third person sitting at the table.

Killian realized he was going to be the one to break the spell, “What’s going on, love?”

Emma finally sighed profoundly, “Maybe now’s a good time to tell you about my wife.”

“Wife?” Killian said with some surprise, but no judgment.

“Yeah…” She cleared her throat, “Yes. Regina.”

Killian put his book down. This was something that had been a long time coming, no matter how you counted time. He had never pushed her about her personal past. It had taken a year for Emma to even admit she was from his future, rather than some ridiculous cover story she had about finding a time machine in 1800’s England. He didn’t care. He loved and was fascinated by his friend, but comfortable enough, and perhaps just selfish enough to not pry too much.

“Where do I start?” Emma looked more keenly sad than Killian had seen. Her whole face seemed to fall into this lost puppy expression and Killian felt for her. 

“Anywhere, love.”

“Once upon a time,” Emma sighed, “I had my perfect happy ending.”


	4. Chapter 4

Emma sighed, “Regina used to tell people we met because of fate. I’m not sure she really believed it, but it made a nice story.”

Killian watched as his friend’s eyes became a little unfocused, unsure whether from the late hour or the amount of whiskey she’d consumed in only a few minutes.

She grew up in a guidance house, she started. Her parents had entered a contract with one of the major houses, it was a good deal, they reasoned. Maybe they were right, as it certainly allowed Emma to learn things she likely never would have otherwise including mechanical engineering, quantum and temporal physics, and was where she learned everything she needed to know to operate time machines. But it was far from her childhood home and she wasn’t able to afford to return except for once every few years. 

She paused in her retelling to try and convey what that all would mean to someone with Killian’s background.

“When I’m from, you can trade labor futures for education, training, access to work, and of course, credits...er, money. Or you might trade as recompense for crime or other offense. It was common for parents to arrange for a certain number of labor futures in order to help their kids have a better, or different path in life. Kids are housed in guidance houses to attend training centers. Like...uh, what’s it called...boarding school. Then you fulfilled your contract, then you made your way in the world.“

“Labor futures? Contracts? You mean you were indentured?”

Emma thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I suppose that’s accurate.”

“God,” Killian’s eyes flashed, “I thought we would be done with fucking slavery.”

Emma bit her lip, “The system has its faults. But...it’s better in some ways to so many of the times I’ve seen. There is guaranteed basic education and employment to match your abilities. It comes with a guaranteed income to live modestly, access to physicians. Things are well regulated, and punishment like prison- where people are essentially idle- is practically non-existent. “

Killian thought for a moment about his own experience, “Well, fuck.”

“That’s just the way things are. Will be. At least in what becomes of the United States. I’m not sayng it is necessarily better.”

Killian took a beat. “Of course, love. It’s disheartening though.”

“Money is power, is freedom, everywhen I’ve been.”

Killian shook his head slowly with a sigh, then asked “So, the houses?”

“Yeah. Well, most kids in the houses made family where they found it.” That was normal. Many folks didn’t know their birth parents well. But Emma had always had a hard time making friends as a kid. She was stubborn, and kind of a loner. It wasn’t long before that reputation built up on itself and even when Emma found herself lonely, people assumed she wanted to be left that way. 

She had one real friend, Lily. Their relationship eventually grew into Emma’s first love. But even with Lily, Emma often felt alone, and in those moments it felt worse than not having anyone at all. 

Emma’s birth parents spoke with her on the vids once a week, at least at the beginning. The lasting impression she had was of their concerned and earnest faces. David and Mary Margaret. Old names. It never occurred to her before that maybe they found it interesting that she had ended up married to a traditionalist. 

“What about her then? The wife?” Killian prompted.

“Right,” Emma nodded, “Regina.”

Regina was so poised, determined, proud, Emma mused. And beautiful. She wore her traditionalist streak on her face, a small scar on her lip from a fall as a child that her parents had never had totally ‘corrected’ despite having the means. They treated things like genetic tweaking and cosmetic alterations as taboo. She loved sailing, an utter luxury even for the upper crust, but Regina eschewed having the boats sail themselves. It had been a surprise, that Regina had been fine with trying the memory encoders. _Perhaps it was her rebellion against her mother,_ Emma mused to herself.

“The first time we met was at a Patron’s dinner,” she continued, “Houses host events with important or influential business or political contacts to strengthen their relationships. Residents, especially those close to terming out of the House to start their contracts, can attend if they have House credits.”

It had been a lovely party. Emma managed to circulate with a good mixture of company representatives, and didn’t look too out of place in her borrowed clothes. It was just after a cluster of representatives over-selling the excitement of programming AI constructs drifted away from her that Emma saw a well dressed woman with shoulder-length brown hair approach her too purposefully for casual mingling.

The woman introduced herself as Regina, and Emma immediately felt herself subject to an intense gaze. Apparently, one of the House Managers had mentioned Emma’s training and the older woman was grilling her about temporal manipulation devices. Emma answered as well as she could, giving her most confident sounding answers and using her practiced smile, but something about this woman unnerved her a little. 

It wasn’t until one of the House Managers approached and referred to her as ‘Arbiter Mills’ that Emma broke out into a sweat. 

Emma paused, trying again to convey to Killian some context, “Arbiters wield tremendous power and influence. I’m trying to think of an adequate comparison. They serve as judges for cases where case law is not written, they can write local law, and they oversee the administration of the local government.”

“Like a Mayor?” Killian supplied.

Emma nodded, “More like Super Mayor maybe. Anyway, I figured that was it in terms of our conversation. But she asked me for my ‘tact- um, like my phone number and profile. Which was odd, because why would an Arbiter give someone like me the time of day? But, I went to initiate the transfer through my wrist implant and she pulls out a tablet to receive the credentials because she informed me she ‘didn’t do’ implants.’” Emma realized that Killian wasn’t really getting the significance, so she finished simply, “I’d just never met anyone like her.”

Regina kept in touch through her assistant, and eventually hired her as a consultant when she termed out of the House. It was a plum job for Emma. And the House was so pleased with the placement, having a powerful ally was worth more to them than squeezing out extra cred from Emma’s contract.

Emma mostly helped with research about time manipulation devices, but also errand running and odd jobs. She didn’t know it at the time, but Regina’s mother Cora was instrumental in all but eliminating time travel devices. _Clueless_ , Emma sighed. 

But this story was about Regina.

Regina was always so brisk and all business, but over time Emma noticed that she would drop teasing prods into conversations. It thoroughly confused Emma at first, who was so eager and earnest and a little out of her depth. Regina was innately commanding and brusque, but Emma eventually realized that there was genuine interest underneath the prickle. And that Regina’s mouth would quirk into a half smile when Emma started jabbing back in their conversations. 

It wasn’t too much longer before the way the Arbiter intoned “Miss Swan” took on a richer tone. It frightened both of them, Regina because she genuinely didn’t want to coerce an employee, Emma because Regina was so intense, and both because love did not come easily to either of them.

It was magnetic. No, it was as fundamental as strong and weak forces in the universe, those miniscule push-and-pulls that made the whole structure of matter. Unravelling and becoming at the same time. Fighting their attraction became vital, and then futile. And when they finally kissed, confessed, became elegantly tangled, Emma found that the nucleus of _them_ was, surprisingly and impossibly, happiness. Searing happiness. 

“I started to believe in fairy tales, you know? Like that was the only explanation for this thing between us. It was pretty conceited in hindsight.” Emma shook her head and downed the last drops of the whiskey in her glass.

“I’m guessing something went amiss in the ‘happily ever after’ department?” Killian poured his own shot.

“Yeah,” Emma said, but nothing else.

“So, what brought this up now, half midnight and all?” Killian pressed.

“I had a dream,” Emma hesitated and Killian quirked a well-sculpted eyebrow as he detected it.

“In for a penny, Cap.”

“OK...Uh, it was a memory.”

Killian nodded his head knowingly, sipping his booze. Emma countered, words coming out in a tumble, “It’s not just nostalgia, Killian. I altered my brain chemistry, and I have tiny robots in my skull. And now, there are some memories, when they start, I lose all sense of where I am.”

Emma snorted, “It was supposed to be fun. But I’ve lost control and I’m afraid.”

Her voice reached a frenzied pitch. “Parts of my brain are breaking down. I’m pretty sure that if I keep going like this, I will lose touch with reality, be constantly locked my own head.“ 

“Easy,” Killian gave a reassuring and intentionally charming smile, “So, next planned stop is 2200 something, right? I’m sure if they can do this to you, they have ways of fixing it, right? Future medicine is slick, remember my top surgery was a breeze.” 

“This is a bit more 2400’s,” Emma shook her head.

“So?...Time machine...” Killian waved his hand.

“No, I can’t go all the way back home. I’ll get caught.” Emma finished in practically a whisper.

Something shifted and in a moment Killian responded intently, “The pirate thing isn’t just colorful play acting.” He gestured to the bulkhead where the storage area was, “the machine. It’s stolen isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Emma said clearly and met his eyes with a mixture of regret and defiance. “I thought it was my only way out.”

“Damn, Swan.” When he thought about it, he had known for a while. But knowing and _knowing_ felt different. He had never been bothered by the more fraudulent things they did like forging paperwork. But they never really outright stole. Killian was about to ask, ‘only way out of what?’ when Emma cut him off in a tight, closed voice.

“Look, I’m tired. Tomorrow, I can take you back to your own time, or at least pretty close. With your cut of the treasure and knowledge of the last few decades, you’ll be set for life.” 

Killian shook his head, promising himself to get the whole truth out of her soon. She had an iron stubborn streak and he knew when to tack and wait for another opening.

“Now isn’t the time for rash decisions. Let’s talk in the morning, shall we?” He put a hand on her shoulder briefly as he rose and crossed to his room, his slippers scuffing on the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

When Emma woke late the next morning, though, Killian was gone. Emma’s rational mind told her that he was probably running, or out and about. But her thoughts alternated between worry and melancholy after what she had told him the night before. She’d not even told him everything, but she still felt raw and skittish. 

She went above decks with a cup of coffee to sit. It was a more temperate day than she was expecting - the air was more light and crisp than the thick anticipation that New England summers could bring. The city was active already, but Emma turned her back the best she could to face out over Boston harbor from their slip’s vantage point. 

_I need space. I need to get out of here,_ she thought. She considered taking the boat out. But solo navigation in the busy harbor and too little sleep was a bit daunting. And she was still getting used to this craft, after all.

 _Losing your touch Miss Swan?_ The ghost of a voice echoed in her head with a tart and teasing smile to go with it. Even in her own imagination, Regina had the last word.

The desire to cut and run was so strong. She was surprised to find herself considering abandoning Killian. He was only a few decades away from his original home. He would be fine, she reasoned, and instantly felt like a jerk. Killian had been nothing if not a good friend to her. 

Her body was twitchy, and the coffee on an empty and uneasy stomach wasn’t helping. She rummaged a nutritional bar out of her pocket of her comfortable robe. The biowrap stamped with a consume by date of February 2139.

“Close enough,” Emma muttered to herself as she chewed. The sun glinted off the water and she blinked, closing her eyes for a just moment. 

+++

_The glinting light off the water in the distance was hypnotic. Emma reached over and ran a hand down the skin on Regina’s forearm. She was a little intoxicated from a small dose of Euphoria she’d taken, and she liked the way Regina’s smooth, warm skin felt. They had dragged the loungers side-by-side on the deck of their sleek cutter-rigged boat, and at the moment had nothing more to do than take advantage of the profound quiet. They had sailed far past the massive, moaning tidal generators, and past the whirring automated cleaning craft that scoured plastic and pollutants. There was nothing but water and a few birds for miles, and the light was beautiful as the afternoon held on for a long breath before it sighed into evening._

__

__

_Regina’s edges were blurry too, but not because of drugs. She never took them, and Emma had realized that_ this _was all Regina needed: salt air, gusty breeze, and a horizon. A warm smile spread on Regina’s face, her eyes squinting a little bit into the afternoon sun. Her hair was wind-blown and tangled._

_“You doing ok over there Ms. Swan?”_

_“Yeah, baby,” Emma hummed._

_She had only taken a little hit when she’s stuck the encoder hypotube in her forearm, but Emma felt an irrepressible smile spread and stay there. Regina had been excited to do another encoder because, according to her, she wanted to remember the shifting color of the sunlight. Emma, on the other hand, couldn’t take her eyes off Regina._

_Regina didn’t seem to mind Emma dosing a little, whereas Regina’s mother would have thrown a fit. So Emma only risked it when they were out on the water. Out of range, and out of Broker Cora Mills’ grasp. The overbearing woman had never liked Emma, and they had seen her almost every day for the last month, as Cora was working with Regina on some important case on behalf of the Merchants. It had been fraying both Emma’s and Regina’s nerves badly, and so Emma couldn’t agree fast enough when Regina had suggested they go sailing on their day off._

_“What a perfect day,” Regina sighed._

_There was plenty to admire about Regina’s brilliance and hardness, her formidable edges- but this, this softer smile was what Emma lived for. Falling for Regina had broken down something in her after years of isolating herself, believing space was something she needed. She hadn’t realized how terribly alone she felt until suddenly, there was this person filling her lungs with every breath. Warm, intelligent, commanding, challenging, occasionally infuriating. To deeply belong to each other was freeing. Like the horizon._

_“Marry me,” Emma heard herself saying._

_Regina looked at her, a questioning eyebrow raised, and her relaxed expression turned to an bemused affection._

_“What exactly are you on, dear?”_

_“I’m serious,” said Emma, sitting up. Marriage was more traditional, and perhaps absurd, than Regina tended toward, but Emma saw a shift in her love’s face that she couldn’t quite hide. It was delight._

_“Ask me again when you are stone sober and you’ve not lured me to the most romantic place on earth,” Regina’s words were dismissive, but the older woman leaned over and captured Emma’s lips for a deep kiss._

_“I will,” Emma vowed, and meant it._

+++

  
“Swan? Wake up. Hey, Cap, are you ok?”

Emma felt Killian gently slapping her left cheek. Her coffee was cold against her right hand where it had spilled on the bench next to her.

“Are you ok?” Killian asked again. 

“Yeah, I just dozed off,” Emma waved his hovering off, flicking a little bit of coffee at him. “Shit, sorry,” she muttered.

Killian ignored it, and swallowed, “Cap, I couldn’t wake you for a long time, and you were all twitchy. Were you, uh, ‘remembering’?”

Emma nodded, still coming to.

“Well, you had the nicest smile on your face at least,” he said, trying to lighten things.

Emma felt the tiny prickle of a tear forming. “How was your morning?” she asked, obviously changing the subject.

“Good. I needed some air. I stopped by a bookstore.” He paused, “ I thought this might help you or something.” He handed her a book entitled _Meditation for a Stronger Mind._

“Thanks Killian,” Emma said sincerely. She sniffed the edge of the book before she thought about it, then fought back the urge to sneeze.

Killian rubbed the back of his neck, then pressed, “I know you said it’s complicated but are you sure you can’t have the local doctors take a look? Maybe they have something to help symptoms at least?”

“You mean other than booze.”

Killian nodded, but kept from looking too accusatory.

“I’m scared, Kil. What if they do something that makes it worse? I mean, the stuff I have going on in my head is 400 years more advanced than anything they’ve ever seen.”

“What will you do then?”

Emma sighed, “I don’t know. But we can drop you home like I said last night, you invest in computers and become a millionaire.” 

Killian just made a face.

“Or have you considered staying here?” Emma pressed, “ You might like it. You could go see that band you like, uh the Ramones, on their farewell farewell tour or something.”

“Swan, I might get bored without you. Besides, the Ramones are all dead. The ones I know anyway.” Killian took another breath to call her on her avoidance, but Emma got a call on her wrist device.

“I think it’s the dealer,” Emma said, noting that the number was the alias she had sent out in her email. “I should take it.”

Killian frowned, then said, “Yeah.” 

Emma jabbed a finger at her watch then answered in a pleasant voice, “Good morning, Swan Imports.”

“Hello, this is William Smee calling for a Ms. Swan. You sent an email several days ago that I’d like to discuss.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Smee, this is Ms. Swan speaking. We’re delighted to hear from you.”

As she spoke, Killian indicated he was heading in into the Marina facilities to shower and start some laundry. His pantomime left Emma with a bewildered look on her face and she distractly waved him away. He stuck his tongue out as he turned to go, and Emma’s response was a single middle finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to miss two weeks there, thanks to those who are still following. Should be back on track in the new year.

**Author's Note:**

> Updating weekly on the weekend.  
> Feedback warmly welcome.


End file.
